


Insomnia Leads to More Insomnia and Thinly-Veiled Threats

by jojohere



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: But like only for the first half, Gen, Ghost Quartet, Intrusive Thoughts, Reader thinks to themselves a lot, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24664351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jojohere/pseuds/jojohere
Summary: It isn’t until the ending of Side Three that you hear a voice speak up from behind you.“MC? What are you doing here at this hour?” Yikes. Lucifer.
Relationships: Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 71





	Insomnia Leads to More Insomnia and Thinly-Veiled Threats

**Author's Note:**

> bby's first obey me! fic :ooo belated hbd lucifer?
> 
> note: you don't need to have much knowledge of ghost quartet to understand it. but the songs mentioned are I Don't Know, Prayer, and Hero.

Nights in the Devildom were something you had yet to get used to. With the only lights coming from the false stars in the sky and the busy storefronts that never seemed to sleep, more often than not, your body clock would get confused at the constant darkness of the sky. Back at home, you could go for a walk around the block or two blocks and come back sufficiently tired to drift off to sleep. But you couldn’t do that now, if you have to deal with demons gossiping about you in the halls and if you have to constantly be accompanied by a member of the student council while you were at RAD, what dangers lurked outside of the school? You didn’t want to imagine the possibilities.

It’s barely been a month and you found yourself thinking of home. Why did you have to though? Lucifer said that the House of Lamentations was home already.

But there were some nights where you would feel a palpable sense of unease in your chest. You were no stranger to insomnia. It was essentially a package deal with homesickness and longingness for the human world. For your own bed. For the solace of your own home. For the rising and falling of the sun and moon. For the sound of birds outside your windowsill. Normalcy. Being with other humans. You could go on and on for hours about things you missed.

After tossing and turning for what felt like hours, you decide that sleep would remain elusive for the rest of the night. You pull yourself out of your bed and make your way to the common room, with your D.D.D. clutched in your hand and the blanket wrapped around your frame.

You use the light from the device to lead you through the darkened halls. The candles’ flames glow with a soft light. Barely there, but still enough to make the path in front of you discernible. (It was amazing how the candles’ flames weakened or grew depending on the hour. You chalked it up to magic. It’s a comforting thing to use it as an excuse to retcon every inexplicable moment you’ve had since the beginning of your stay so you don’t think too much about it.)

You make your way to the long sofa near the extinguished fireplace.

The common room without its usual warm atmosphere sent an ominous chill, literal and figurative, down your spine. The only light source came from the faint glow of your D.D.D. casting shadows on the ceiling. Shadows that you hoped were simply shadows and not something waiting to pounce on you while you were unguarded. Should you have gone to someone else’s room?

You shake your head, banishing the anxious thoughts from your mind, scrolling through your playlists before setting it face down on the coffee table.

There’s the sound of hushed shuffling and mumbling coming from the phone until a man’s voice speaks up, _“This is Ghost Quartet. Side 1, Track 1, I Don’t Know.”_

Three other voices then join him. You rest your head on the backrest of the sofa and stare up at the ceiling as you let the music flow over you.

You’ve listened to the song cycle about a million times already, but it has never failed to turn your attention away from the spiral of self-destruction and decay. You close your eyes, breathe in, then breathe out.

As the music continues, you feel your body relax itself, the pesky thoughts of home and your tasks and everything else float away, finding focus in the story. Of Rose, Pearl, the Astronomer, and the Bear. Of Scheherazade and Dunyazad and the Shah. The story that made no sense whatsoever, the story that you could listen to for hours and hours and never get sick of it.

It isn’t until the ending of Side Three that you hear a voice speak up from behind you.

“MC? What are you doing here at this hour?” Yikes. _Lucifer._

You’re pulled out of the shiver-inducing harmonies of Prayer and dropped back into the cold dark common room of the House of Lamentations. Kind of like when you were first brought to RAD, you think dazedly.

“MC?” He repeats his question.

The unease of homesickness is then replaced by the unease of being caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, doing the worst thing. “I’m-I’m sorry, I couldn’t sleep.” You clear the lump in your throat.

“You are aware of the risks of sleeping out in the open, aren’t you?”

Even without looking, you can almost imagine him tilting his head to the side with a hand held to his chin as he asked the question. “Well, I won’t need to worry about that if you’re here,” You say without thinking. “…Sorry.”

You hear him chuckle to himself, amusement coloring his next words, “I suppose I could keep you company for the time being.” He then sits on the sofa across from you. Relaxed. Reclined. One leg crossed over the other.

The fireplace roars to life as he takes a seat. _Magic,_ you exclaim to yourself in your head. You straighten your back and pull the trailing edges of the blanket closer to you, tucking them underneath your legs. “…Thanks,” you mumble.

The two of you sit, quiet, with the soft notes of the piano and Rose’s mournful regret. Your head gently sways to the lyrics of the song.

You’re probably imagining it, but you can feel the weight of the demon’s gaze on you. Unreadable, but curious. You try not to let that bother you as you listen.

“Are you having any trouble with your studies?” He’s the first to break the silence. Or, half silence.

You carefully mull over the possible things you could say. The option of lying outright gets crossed out first, you don’t want to end up like Mammon when he gets caught. But at the same time, there’s a part of you vehemently against telling him the complete truth that you’re struggling. Telling a small white lie sounds like the easiest option until you remember that this might be the first of many subsequent unintentional all-nighters…that could become a bigger problem in the future.

You lean back, a short exhale breathing out from your chest, “ _Hoo_ …where do I begin—” You sneak a glance at Lucifer and see a concerned, raised brow, “—kidding! _Kidding_ , just wanted to see your reaction! It’s amazing here!” Awkward laughter bubbles from your throat.

 _Shit._ You did the first thing you were _not_ supposed to do. “I mean, more amazing than I thought it would be. Y’know?” You backtrack, peering at him from the corner of your eye, gauging his reaction.

He doesn’t look annoyed. But he doesn’t look amused either. He’s still wearing that same unreadable expression. “Is that so?”

You shrug, wringing your hands underneath the blanket. “It’s not the easiest thing to do, but I’m doing my best. I think.” Your eyes meet his. Your words are somewhat honest. It’s not a lie, but it’s not all of the truth either. This might get him to stop

If he accepts it.

His expression relaxes, and his lips are raised into a small smile, “That’s good to hear.”

There’s something about seeing him in the warm glow of the fireplace that captures your gaze. Or maybe it was the otherworldly allure that all the residents of the Devildom carried, always making you stare for just a little bit longer to take in their features, stare for a beat too long to watch the grace they exude in their poise and movement.

You could feel your heart thudding in your chest, whether it was from anxiety or something else, you weren’t sure—

A crash from the kitchen _(thankfully)_ breaks the tension between you both.

Lucifer sighs, “That’s probably Beel.” He stands up from his seat, “I should stop him before he eats everything in the fridge. _Again._ ” Mild irritation seeps into his tone.

You take that as your cue to leave and head back to your room. You also stand up and gather the blanket in your arms to keep the edges from trailing on the floor. You bid a mumbled goodnight and go to speedwalk back to your room, when Lucifer calls out your name. You turn back and see your D.D.D. clutched in his hand, still faintly playing your music. _Ah, crap,_ you curse to yourself and go to retrieve it.

Your fingers brush against the black leather of his glove to meet the hard plastic of your D.D.D.’s case. Before you can withdraw your arm, his other hand comes up to grip your wrist, keeping you from quickly retreating. You tense up at the contact, “Wh—”

“I understand that you may not want anyone to pry into your affairs, but do not take me for a fool, MC. I expect you to take this exchange program seriously. If this affects your studies, I’ll have no choice but to intervene. Understand?”

No. You _don’t_ understand. Is this a roundabout way of offering help? Is he propositioning you for something? Is he threatening you? Just _how_ important is this exchange program to Lord Diavolo? Despite the many questions swirling in your head, you force yourself to nod mutely in response.

“Good,” He lets go of your wrist, seemingly pleased with your answer and makes his way to the kitchen.

The fireplace goes out, leaving you standing alone in a darkened common room.

You waste no time in hightailing it out of there and into your room (or at least, as best you can with a heavy blanket wrapped around your body). You slam the door shut and lean your weight against it. Your breath comes out in short and fast pants, you press a hand against your chest, as if to quell the rapid beating of your heart.

Your room is completely silent, with the last song on the playlist already finished playing. Your feet make their way to your bed and you lie down on it.

You replay the scenario again and again in your head. Taking it apart and analyzing each moment up until the present moment. Disassembling it and looking at other ways it could have gone. Dissecting it and wondering what his words meant.

God, you were going to need a whole pot of coffee to make it through the day. There was no way you were going to be able to get any sleep after that exchange.

**Author's Note:**

> it initially started with some semblance of thought and then spiralled out of control as i kept writing. but! i hope you liked it. leave a kudos/comment if you did :D
> 
> listen to ghost quartet by dave malloy. the entire song cycle is amazing.


End file.
